Chapter 11
honey and venom
Saige
Walking into the residence hall feels unnatural—that's the best way to describe it. I mean, I'm supposed to live here, but I've only slept in this bed once, and now, that bed doesn't even have sheets.
I never even finished unpacking. I never cleaned up the mess—the tossed drawers, boxes, and all the other shit on the floor. I guess I should be glad that whoever it was didn't break my television and tear through the walls like Miles did at Elias's house.
They must not have had a fire poker.
The room feels tainted now, the air notably staler than it was in the hallway. Leaving the door open, I drop my backpack on the floor and cross the threshold.
I dig through the mess for things I didn't need before, but after a few days, I've started to miss.
Like my headphones—I could have really used those earlier when I was killing time in the library.
My journal, which is merely a comfort item at this point—I haven't written in it more than a couple of times over the past year, but I still carry it with me.
My favorite pillow. Dental floss.
I grab some more clothes, too. I bought some yesterday, which helps, but I'm going to need more, eventually. And it's getting colder. It's getting darker earlier, too.
And then I check the time: 6:03 PM. Elias and Dax should be at the gym now.
I turn, but before I leave, Kira appears in the doorway. "Hey, girl," she says. "What time are we heading over to your brother's house? Do you want to pregame in my room?"
Brother. I hate that word. I also don't see the point in correcting her or reminding her I despise him.
"You okay?" she asks.
I wipe the grimace off my face. "Yeah, I'm fine. But I actually have to head over there early, so—"
"What happened to your bed? Why are you taking all of that stuff with you?"
I take a breath, preparing to give her my ex-boyfriend story.
"It's not a huge deal, but I have this ex from back home, and he's been sending me all of these creepy text messages.
He's been threatening me, and he…left something in my room and in my car.
It's bad enough that I don't really feel safe here, so I've been staying at Elias's house. "
"Oh, my god! Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I tell her. "Yeah, I'm okay."
"What did he leave in your room?"
"…A dead squirrel."
Her eyes widen. "Oh, my god! Saige! You need to tell campus security or something. That's really scary."
"Yeah, I've been thinking about that, too.
But anyway, that's where I've been, and I told them I'd help them clean up before the party since they're letting me stay there.
" For whatever reason, this is the part of the lie that makes me cringe—telling her I'm just doing a favor for Elias because I want to.
"So, I am going to head over there now."
"I'll go with you."
"What? No, you don't have to do that."
"No, it actually sounds kind of fun. I can help you, too. I'll grab my bag and the vodka."
She flashes me a smile, leaving the room before I can protest.
Great.
The two of us walk to the townhouse, and I knock on the door this time instead of entering through the garage.
Nolan opens it a few seconds later, confused when he sees me. "You don't have to knock, Saige."
Leaving the door open, he steps back into the house without even acknowledging Kira.
"Okay, that was weird," she says quietly. "I guess maybe you're right—he is a little creepy."
I don't really like to hear that, either. I'm not sure why; I said it first. I think it all the time, but I don't like it when she says it.
"Don't call him that," I say over my shoulder as we walk into the house.
Nolan sits on the sofa in the dark with the television on again, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He's wearing white joggers with a matching hoodie, this time with a pair of Timberlands. His hair is still a little wet, thick dark locks sticking to his forehead.
He's pretty when you don't look into his eyes.
Kira shrugs. "Eh, well, I'll grow on him. I always do."
She makes herself right at home, somehow figuring out how to connect her phone to the speakers in here in mere seconds, oblivious to the fact that Nolan is trying to watch television. As hip hop music blares from every corner of the first floor, Nolan glares at me over the top of his glasses.
I smile a little. Still think she's a criminal mastermind?
Kira opens cabinets, looking for glasses, and takes two out, setting them on the counter. Then she helps herself to some ice from the freezer before opening her bag and pulling out a bottle of vodka, soda, and even a lime.
She came prepared, I guess.
"Do you know where I can find a cutting board?" she asks me.
"I got it." Nolan walks into the kitchen, opening the smaller cabinet above the refrigerator, which would have been well out of my reach, and then sets a wooden cutting board and knife on the countertop.
"Thanks," Kira says. "I can make you one, too, if you want."
He looks at me. "Sure," he says in a flat tone.
"I'm Kira, by the way. Nice to meet you."
She steps toward him, opening her arms, and I can tell she's going to hug him. I quickly move between them, placing my hands on her shoulders and stopping her.
"Don't do that," I tell her, shaking my head. "He doesn't like to be touched."
"Oh…" she says. "Sorry."
"It's okay," he says. "I will take that drink, though. And Elias texted me and told me to tell you to start some more laundry, too."
I sneer. "Great. Do you have any rubber gloves?"
"I can do it," Kira says happily, handing me a drink before walking another over to Nolan.
"Trust me, you don't want to."
"I think Elias wants Saige specifically to do his laundry," Nolan says as he takes the glass. "And there are rubber gloves under the sink. Stay out of my room, too."
With her back to him, Kira gives me a face.
"I'm just going to get the laundry over with first." I go for the cabinet under the sink and dig out the rubber gloves. "You can put your stuff in m—" I almost call it my room, and it makes me sick. "—this spare room over here."
"Okay. I'll start with the kitchen."
I guess she really did come to help me clean.
And she does, too, making sure I have a full drink the whole time.
A couple of hours later, we finish with the house, and now, we're sitting on the hardwood floor in not my room laughing about some guy she met in class who she thought was really hot, but then she went to his apartment to study with him…
and found out he had eleven snakes in his tiny bedroom.
"It was so gross! The whole place smelled like…shit and…woodchips. I don't think he ever cleaned the cages."
"Woodchips?!" I laugh.
"Yeah, you know—like the lining of a hamster cage."
"What did you do?"
"I just got out of there. I told him I wasn't into this and left."
"Was he pissed?"
"No, but he followed me out of the building, trying to explain to me how they actually make great pets because they're hypoallergenic."
"No! That's terrible!"
"Right? Just…no. No wonder these men are so damn lonely. I made sure I found someone else to sit with today."
I lie flat on my back on the floor. "Oh, my god—I would die."
But when the word die comes out of my mouth, suddenly everything is less funny. I'm not a normal girl laughing with a friend anymore—I'm a killer again. I'm thinking about my sore arms and his dead weight again, his belt catching on rocks and tree roots...
"It's nice to hear you laugh."
His voice pulls me right back out of my head. Dax stands in the doorway; amidst my spiral, I hadn't even heard it open. He's already changed, so they must have gotten back a while ago. It's loud outside the room, and sounds like there are people here already, too. I guess we lost track of time.
He leans against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, wearing dark denim with white sneakers and a dark grey shirt.
I sigh. I miss his arms.
"Hi."
"Hey, baby," he says. "Why don't you come out now? We got a keg."
"We have drinks."
"I don't," Kira says, looking at her empty glass.
"Well, there you go. Your friend wants a beer; be a good host."
"I'm not a host," I say. "I just need a minute. We'll be out in a second."
"Don't make me come and drag you out. Elias is getting really antsy about you being back here; I really don't want to deal with his broody self."
He closes the door behind him, and I realize I'm not only worried about Elias or my stalker—especially not with a bunch of people around. I'm worried about something else.
I'm worried that in a room full of people, Dax won't want me, and it'll hurt. What the fuck is wrong with me? How could I even feel like this after everything he's done?
Oh, well. Maybe it's better to just get it over with so I can put the twisted attachment I have to him to bed.
"Your brother must be really concerned about you with all of that ex-boyfriend stuff. I'm kind of surprised—you made it sound like you two really hated each other, and he was some kind of monster."
"He is. And we do."
Kira shrugs. "At the end of the day, you're still family, though, I guess."
No. No, we're not. That's not what this is at all.
Sighing, I pull my already-tipsy self off the floor. "Let's just get this over with."
I walk out of the room and into a cloud of smoke.
There are more than just a few people here—the living room is packed.
The kitchen table is being used for beer pong, and Kira's playlist has been swapped out for something leaning more toward alterative rock and metalcore, which I know from living with him for so long must be Elias.
He would constantly blare his music to annoy me—to the point that it rattled the books on my shelves.
I never bothered to tell him it didn't work because I liked the same thing.
If he'd taken even five seconds to try to get to know me, that's the first thing he would have noticed.